


Ingress GO

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, Jealous James Bond, M/M, Oblivious Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:42:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q's habit of playing Ingress could be deadly if James wasn't around to either fish him out of danger himself or coordinate his guards to keep him safe. </p><p>The downside to not being there to save his Quartermaster from the evil pols and delegating the best of the rest to do so, meant that Q was free to bump into certain Pokemon GO players.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since Ingress and Pokemon GO have the same creator - Niantic - they share the same gates/PokeStops+Gyms. I play Pokemon Go, but I have friends who play Ingress and they explained how the game works and what you're supposed to do (however, I still YouTube-ed Ingress while writing this, even if the gameplay isn't a huge part of the story). I also pictured Q playing Ingress over Pokemon GO because you 'hack' the gates.

Q had a habit of getting lost in his own little world whenever he was doing something that he was really interested in which, contrary to 007’ claims, was something extremely common. So what if he accidentally drank glue instead of tea that one time? He didn’t actually do it – because the agent was buzzing around him and quickly pushed a Danish in his mouth and slapped the glue out of his hand as if he was a five year old – nor did he accidentally walked in a room when agents were testing their new guns – and not because 007 grabbed him and threw him over the shoulder, but because he had business in the room right next to it and the agent overreacted as usual.

 

But those were just isolated incidents and people needed Q to get around without getting hurt, not the other way around. “And no, I am not playing this game to prove a point, Bond,” he grumbled as he held the phone a little away from him, the agent appearing out of nowhere to tug him backwards just as the subway was pulling into the station. “Also,” he got the Gate and tucked the phone inside his jacket, “what exactly are you doing down here, with the plebe, when you have an Aston Martin that I just finished fixing for you, _again_ , even though I am your Quartermaster and not your mechanic?”

 

The agent took another step back with Q in his arms and stepped in front of him, glaring at someone. “Ensuring that my Quartermaster doesn’t get hit by the subway, ran over by a car, robbed—”

 

“Speaking of which, the woman behind you is currently making herself at home in your pockets,” Q pointed out, chuckling when the agent gently grabbed her hand and recovered his wallet and cell phone. “Please carry on with how you are saving me from things that I can notice without my glasses on, as I do so love fiction.”

 

James narrowed his eyes and flexed his fingers as if he was holding back from doing something “Your ‘oh so amusing’ jokes aside, Quartermaster, I am here to make sure that no one thinks you are one of the crazy hobos that talk with themselves.” He grabbed another person that pushed up against him when they entered the subway and recovered his car keys.

 

Q gave him a slow clap. “You’re starting to remember your agent training; good, I don’t have to worry about filling in that tedious paperwork required to demote a double oh agent back to trainee.” He was sure that M had them filled in and ready for the Quartermaster’s signature somewhere in her office.

 

“Why do you insist on using public transportation? You just need to brush up on your driving a little,” they had been on a mission together a few months back and of course Q ended up behind the wheel, driving like a maniac while 007 was leaning out the window, emptying a Kalashnikov, “but you can use the car services until you get you driver’s licence. Or you don’t want to use it because they’re going too fast and you’ll miss your precious gates?”

 

He actually forgot to check the damned lists before the cut off times, but if he told the agent that, the man wouldn’t let it go until Q was _eating_ memory pills. “You know so much about this game that I am starting to suspect that you secretly playing it and using my safety as an excuse,” Q hummed and not a second later, he had James’ unlocked and buzzing phone shoved in his face. “Bond, a woman just texted you and she is very much naked as the day she was born, plus two silicone implants. Could you maybe not suffocate me with her… personalities?” He chuckled while Bond struggled to delete the picture. “Anyway, I was only making a joke, so please don’t attack me with technology again.”

 

“I actually want to show you a bicycle—”

 

“I am not getting one, so drop it,” he cut the man off before he could even start. He was a complete disaster on those death traps on wheels and no matter how many hours he spent trying to learn, he still ended up with his arms and knees scratched like he was a child. “I am perfectly happy – and safe – taking the subway to and from work, as I have been doing for years.”

 

“You just missed your stop,” Bond pointed out and Q groaned, pushing his glasses on top of his head so he could rub his eyes. He was actually very tired and he had almost fallen asleep twice while at work – once, during Tanner’s briefing regarding all the meetings that were going to take place that month and then again when he made the huge mistake of sitting down on a chair slightly more comfortable than his – so this seriously dampened his mood.

 

“Don’t you dare say that I missed it because of the game because you know I missed it because of you,” Q growled while Bond easily pushed people out of their way to make it easier for them to get out. “It will be faster if we walk back.”

 

“You’ll also snag about,” Bond hummed, tapping his chin, “twenty-three gates and almost die just about as many times, right?”

 

Q rolled his eyes, shaking his head and wishing that it was just that and not the fact that now the world’s colours were slightly sharper and its noises louder. “I swear you have that game and you’re just too stuck in a high-school way of thinking and you won’t admit it because it will make you look uncool because there is _no way_ you could know that much about this game and not play it.” That just earned him the phone shoved in his phone once again and Q swore Bond hissed at someone who might have looked like the one minion that lived at this stop and always did his best to bring him the muffins he liked and made the tea almost correctly. “How are you our best agent?”  

 

Bond pulled him to his chest just in time to save him from a bicycle, a few people making cooing noises while he got to prove his point. “Question answered and,” he made sure to put Q right in front of him, “you know I know all the gates because ever since you fell down those stairs at the subway two months ago when you started playing this game, walking you home has become a sort of a hobby for me when I am not on a mission.”

 

“That’s your excuse now, but what was it before I got this game?” Q snarked, sour still because he had lost a gate to another player who was just two levels higher than him.

 

“I didn’t need an excuse before because you _knew_.” It was more than normal for the Quartermaster to have his own security detail composed of five normal type agents, but James asked him if he was okay with an assassin following him around – and then quickly made it clear to him that he was the assassin who was going to do that, so please cancel the new security plans you just texted – which Q agreed to as long as they played a little game that helped him pretend he had a normal life. “And you should send whoever invented this game a ‘thank you’ letter because you no longer have to get me coffee every morning for not being able to pick me out in the crowed.”

 

Q scoffed at him. “I’ll make sure to remember that tomorrow and only give you your equipment. Let’s hear you hit on the mandatory hot stewardess that always ends up falling on your lap during turbulences she only felt without your liquid drug.”

 

“And I’ll make sure to let you walk into the next pole,” James promised, but neither of them kept their word and Q was still bruise-free when he pushed a cup of black coffee alongside his equipment.

 

Playing his game was less fun when James’ wasn’t around since none of the agents actually walked by his side or pointed out when he walked passed his favourite shops, but he was also forced him to actually pay attention where he was going and to what he was doing. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course, and the men were socialising with him as much as they could.

 

They cracked jokes – which had James growl at them over Q’s phone because it was okay for him to joke around with the Quartermaster since he was a double oh agent and he _sensed_ danger, but not for them – and they also had the occasional lunch together – although they sat at different tables. And they also constantly fumbled whenever Q bumped into someone, either asking him directly who they were – Bond knew his friends on a first name basis – or rushing whatever technician was on duty to pull up the files on them. They also scared his next door neighbour when they thought he was trying to break in – he was checking Q’s door as per his request – scared off six delivery guys and long story short, he couldn’t wait for Bond to come back.

 

He hid that for everyone, of course, especially the agent himself because he was pretty sure that the man would explode if his ego got bigger than it already was and also because he was embarrassed because _maybe_ he had a crush on him – but in his defence, who didn’t? Even Eve had one and although R was going to deny it until the world ended, but Q clearly remembered the days when she sighed every time he walked passed her. Q didn’t sigh like she did, but he did head straight for poles just to have the man pull him to his chest – and also to give him a taste of his own medicine, but without really putting himself at risk.

 

But he was doing a really good job of hiding his crush, the agent not noticing even once when he rested his head on his chest or that the coffee was a special blend that Q brought back from his trips to Colombia – he was willing to put with the flight because he really liked Cartagena and Bogota. He also did not go out of his way to dump the honeypot missions on his minions, he cut turned the sound really low when the ‘trapping was going on – he would have turned it off completely if there wasn’t the change of the agent getting murdered mid-coitus – and he didn’t do – too much – research on the man’s temporary love interests. And he regretted being so subtle as well as questioned just how good of an agent Bond was because his department _knew_ , as did his Eve, Tanner, and all the other agents – okay, so he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was.

 

Still, on some level he was happy that his crush was still a mystery to the man as it was rare for him to remain on a friendly level with his passed flings, Eve being that super-rare exception. He lied to himself and thought that he wouldn’t mind being just a one-nightstand for him, but he was truthful in admitting to himself that it would hurt him if Bond would simply start treating him as just the Quartermaster he slept with after everything was over and done with.

 

“ _In how many poles have you walked into until now?”_ Bonds’ voice drifted through his earpiece and Q almost dropped his phone because the agent wasn’t supposed to be back for two more days from his relatively uneventful mission. “ _Your medical records—”_

 

“In what country are you, what did you do to get there, and who is after you this time?” Q interrupted his little joke, looking around the market to see if he could catch a glimpse of him. “Who do I have to blacklist this month? Do I need to prepare the doctors for a paternity test and the lawyers ready for a lawsuit?” How he wished he was overdramatising things, but there had been women who came after Bond, claiming that he was the father of their babies and trying to coerce him into shotgun weddings.

 

“ _One, I always wear protection_ ,” which was why none of the babies were his, “ _and two, it really wasn’t my fault this time, Q._ ” It never was. “ _I was simply being friendly with this pair of siblings and they each thought that I wanted to sleep with them – which would have played perfectly in their own hidden agendas to piss off their father – and I might have accidentally made-out with the brother—”_

 

Q groaned and a few people turned to look at him funnily, forcing him to push his phone to his ear and turn around with his back to them, almost bumping into someone else who was too busy with his phone to see what was going on. “Oh, excuse me,” he apologized and the man grinned at him and shook his head. “How can you _accidentally_ make out with someone?” He hissed and edged away from the man who was now looking at him with furrowed brows.

 

“ _Well, it happens when one just woke up from a really nice dream,_ ” Q was going to have to learn to stop asking really stupid questions because he was cursed to hear only groan-inducing answers, “ _and because my mind was still muddy from the dream, I pulled him into a kiss and his father walked in and long story short, same-sex marriage is legal in Colombia, I am a wanted man because the Mayor’s son married a lowly produce vendor which he loved instead of a British Lord he wanted to sleep with out of sadness, and I am lying low until your backup plan kicks in.”_

 

There were moments in which Q was sure Bond would say or do something that would cure him of his crush, but those moments never came into fruition and it always ended with Q struggling not to sigh lovingly like a maiden from one of the cheap romance novels he bought from airports so he could force his mind to focus on the groan-inducing stories and not the fact that he was in a flying death-trap.

 

“Does this Mayor of yours have his fingers in certain pies that I might use to rob him of his power while whisking you away to safety?” Q asked, now holding the phone in front of him so he could take over a Gate since no one was paying attention to him anymore.

 

“ _I have already forwarded you the files that his son sent me as a ‘thank you’ for helping him run away with his new husband.”_ Q could feel the grin behind those words and he hoped out of the game to check and see just what the Mayor was doing, stopped from fully forgetting that he wasn’t at work by a bicycle’s horn. “ _I suggest we do a little role reversal and I guide you out of harm’s way?”_

 

Q snorted. “Should I act like you and manage to twist the instructions in such a way that I end up in even more danger?” He jokingly asked, trying to picture Bond in a lab coat – even though he never wore one – and himself in one of the agent’s suits, struggling not to laugh because they were baggy on him.

 

“ _If you decide to do that so you could waste time trying to teach me a lesson I’ll find myself in a situation in which I wouldn’t be able to follow your words, I’ll continue to act like you would and do my best to save you from those evil posts that seem hell bent on leaving behind an imprint on your lovely forehead_ ,” James whispered, Q not sure on what feeling he should focus on. “ _Speaking of coffees you owe me because you didn’t spot me—”_

 

Okay, he was going to settle on ‘annoyed’. “I don’t remember agreeing to do that again, Bond. Plus, I can’t spot you because I am not in front of a computer and because I am sure that, by now, you managed to lose _all_ of your trackers.” Q interrupted him, clicking his tongue because he failed taking over a gate – he’d have to walk around a bit longer until he levelled up and got more power. “And if you’re going to complain about the coffee you’re making for yourself in the morning then allow me to point out that it would taste better if you wouldn’t keep scotch in the coffee maker.”

 

You’d think that talking about coffee couldn’t take more than ten minutes, but by the time Q finally gave into the little voice in his head – and Bond’s whisper in his ear – and agreed to continue to supply the agent with the liquid of life, having lunch with him on the next day, and to also visit the rebuilt Skyfall during his first vacation, the sun was setting and he was on his fourth bottle of water.  

 

But he also noticed something strange and just to be sure, he took a sudden right turn and the man he had bumped into a few hours ago, took that turn with him. Q stopped and the man stopped. Q started to go to the right and then suddenly turned on his heel and walked back and sure enough, the man mirrored his actions.

 

“ _Your guards see him and I am coordinating them_ , _so don’t worry,_ ” Bond said before Q could ask anything, the agent’s voice in his ear helping his brain slow down so that his thoughts actually made sense again and keep his heart in his chest. “ _Make a left turn at the tailor shop and go down the alley. Ignore the darkness and the fact that it’s a dead end; just keep fingering your phone._ ” Q let out a shaky breath and Bond clicked his tongue. “ _I just made a really bad pun, Quartermaster. You should either berate me or take pity on me and at least snort.”_

 

Q knew that Bond dealt with stressful situations by joking or acting like he wasn’t fully aware of just how serious everything was, but it seemed that Bond didn’t know that Q dealt with them by tensing up, and by blocking everything out that wasn’t part of fixing the problem. In fact, when someone acted like everything was okay, it annoyed the hell out of him and made him snappy.

 

“I’m being followed by a man that’s taller than me and that looks like he could easily break someone in half when I am armed only with a Taser gun and I don’t see my guards anymore; excuse me if I don’t feel like giving you a pity anything,” he said coldly, letting out a shaky breath. But he trusted his agents and he trusted Bond the most, so he took a deep breath to steady himself as he stepped in the dim alley.

 

“Hey, don’t go in there!” Someone called from behind him and yanked him back. “The most you can get out of there is a Gastly and robbed,” the man that was trailing after him said, peering into the alley. “And really, that’s not worthy it/”

 

Finally seeing his guards getting ready to jump the man, Q signalled them to hold their position and shushed the panicking agent in his ear. “Why were you following me?” He asked carefully, nothing the scar that ran over the man’s right side of the face, but not openly staring at it.

 

The suspected robber arched his brow and it seemed that people shoving their phones in Q’s face became synonym with breathing because the man was doing just that now. “I’m not following you; I’m playing Pokémon GO. I assumed you were doing the same thing because you stopped by every PokéStop I did. ”

 

Pushing the man’s hand away a little – and noting that the couple that was now making out right behind the stranger were husband and wife agents that had sort-of adopted him – Q studied the colourful animal that seemed to be trying to jump out of the screen, taking a moment to remember what the goal of the game was. “Oh, you’re playing the game where saying that you have a bunch of great balls doesn’t get you smacked and in the back of a police car.” He turned the screen of his phone in the man’s direction. “I am playing Ingress. I think our games share gates because they share creators.”

 

The man made to take his phone, but Q moved his hand back – signalling the agents to hold their position. “I am not going to steal your phone, even though I am pretty sure it’s not out yet, so please tell me how you got it and if you’d get me one if I give you all of my best Pokémon and a lunch at a really good restaurant?”

 

James clicked his tongue. “ _That was so horrible that I don’t even know if he tried to ask you out or get you to freely give up your phone because he’s a conman,_ ” he grumbled, sounding like he was tapping a desk. “ _Get rid of this clown already, Q. He sounds familiar and that is rarely a good thing._ ”

 

Q snorted because if _Bond_ , the man who butted in on a conversation about The Doctor just to say that his ‘It looks like you need a Doctor’ right before kissing Rose was a very good line and that he planned on using it the next time he ends up in Medical because there was a really cute new nurse – Q wondering for the nth time just that month how the bloody hell the man managed to get laid so often – said a pickup line was bad, then it was monumentally bad.

 

“That was the first time I tried to score lunch by using Pokémon, so can I try again?” The man asked and of course Bond heard because he started ranting about why the man was clearly dangerous and asking why the agents weren’t swarming him and taking him down, Q chuckling all the while. “I am sorry, but am I making a fool of myself?”

 

“Ah, no, it’s not you.” Q tapped turned a bit to the right and tapped his ear, showing the man his earpiece. “I am on the phone with a sort-of friend—”

 

“ _I am your ‘sort-of friend’? Quartermaster, your words wound me.”_

 

“—who’s going to be demoted to pest and end up with a call dropped if he keeps interrupting me,” he said with no real venom behind his words. “Anyway, I will have to turn you down, partially because I am binned by a contract and mostly because I do not play Pokémon.”  

 

The man hummed, running his hand through his hair. “Are you sure it’s not because I came off as, for a lack of better word, a creep?”

 

“Well, I was sure that you were following me and that were planning on robbing me,” Q said awkwardly, coughing as a black car pulled up next to him – MI6 issued – and someone who was an obvious bodyguard held the door open for him. “But even so, I’d still have to turn your offer down.”

 

The man studied the car, nodding. “Is it because I am way off and I am, as the Americans say it, barking up the wrong tree?” Q shook his head and the man’s grin was so wide that he was a moustache away from twirling it. “Then is it because you’re the secret heir to the throne of England and I ruined your one chance at a normal life even though it was only a pretend one?”

 

“ _That man is clearly insane_ ,” James chimed in. “ _Have your guard zap him because I know you’re too kind to do it._ ”

 

“No one is zapping anyone,” Q hissed and the man took a step back, holding his hands up as the guard slowly reached towards his jacket – his phone was ringing, but he was acting as if he was getting ready to pull a weapon out. “And I am not royalty.”

 

The man furrowed his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you sure? Because a crown would totally fit you/”

 

“ _Put the bastard on,_ ” James growled and Q just ended the conversation, huffing as he got into the car, rolling the window down. He was in more than safe waters now and while he understood the man’s need to constantly protect him especially after Skyfall – which had been his first mission ever as the Quartermaster, so Bond had been protective of him since the beginning of his career – he did wish the man would learn

 

“Mister Thief—”

 

The man moved fast, faster than any of his guards could have anticipated, and grabbed Q’s hand, shaking it innocently. “My name is Alec, so please feel free to call me that. And you are?”

 

Before he could answer, the driver pushed his phone in his face and his guards tugged Alec back. “Annoyed,” he grumbled. “I have my glasses on and even if I didn’t, I am not so blind that I’d need the phone to become one with my retina in order to see,” he added a little louder, Alec chuckling and the driver apologizing. “Plus, I know what it says without reading it.”

 

“Is it because the X-men are actually real and you are the young version of Professor Xavier?” Alec tried again.

 

Q shook his head, shooting James a reply, the driver starting the car. “Have a nice day, Mister Alec.”

 

“I can totally get behind you being the Phoenix, though I will do my best to make sure the restaurant we go to is so good that you’ll reconsider destroying the world! Or with you being either a Jedi or a Sith Lord!” Alec shouted, starting to walk after the car. “Are you the Doctor?”

 

“Have fun catching your Pokémons, Mister Alec,” Q shouted back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and kind words!
> 
> Enjoy~

It was practically impossible not to notice a man dressed in what had to be the most colourful clothing in the world which was a good thing because the man in question always seemed to have his button nose stuck in his phone and one ear constantly covered by an earpiece, his attention clearly divided. Alec was sure that he was going to get run over the first day he saw him, but an arm appeared out of the crowd behind him and pulled him back to safety.

 

The second time Alec saw the thin man with wild, brown hair, he almost collided with a man on a bicycle who was just as lost to the world around him as the colourful man, too busy to shout into his phone to notice the incarnation of some of the rainbow angrily stomping directly towards him. In a romantic comedy – and at least one Disney cartoon, plus its remake – that would have ended with the two oblivious victims dating – while, realistically, they would have both been in the hospital, snarling at each other that they were going to sue.

 

That, mixed with his natural instinct, had Alec trying to rush and stop them, but a burly man beat him to it and grabbed the bicyclist seconds before he collided with the thin man whose attention was finally snagged by someone or something and he disappeared before Alec could approach him.

 

Numerous other times, the man seemed to be looking for someone, always disappearing just as Alec decided to try and talk with him, ask him what Pokémons he had, which he wanted and see which way the man swung because Alec wasn’t blind and the man was beautiful.

 

But from the moment Alec decided to do that, the man became as elusive as a fae, giving him the slip just as he started walking up to him. And then luck struck and the man bumped into him, busy with his game and his phone.

 

“Oh, excuse me,” the man apologized, returning to hiss in a way that reminded Alec of a tiny kitten at whoever he was speaking to.

 

Alec didn’t intend on following him since he seemed to have an important conversation, but they were cleaning the same gates and trying to battle the same gyms – and interestingly enough, the man never actually took over one, which just begged the question of what team he was – and he ended up doing that by accident.

 

And it was a good thing that it happened, Alec decided when he noticed where the man was heading and that he was being followed, stopping him just as he was entering a dead end that would have surely cost him his phone, wallet, and shoes, if not his expensive clothes.

 

The man was tense as a string, his eyes darting around as if he was looking for an escape path and his question made it clear that he had thought Alec wanted to do him ill. “Why were you following me?”

 

Not the way he wanted their first, official and actual conversation to start, but then again it only made sense for someone to be suspicious of a tall, muscly man, with a scar on his face that seemed to be following them around. The possibility of the thin man trying to lead him into a trap crossed his mind and that thought got confirmed when he noticed that the people who he had assumed to be the attackers now hovered around them, ready to attack _him_ if he made a wrong move against their living package.

 

Wanting to put everyone’s minds at east – and especially the thin man’s – he showed the man’s his phone. “I’m not following you.” Well, he technically was, but the devil was in the details and he was facing a fae – calling him an ‘angel’ would have been too much of a cliché. “I’m playing Pokémon GO. I assumed you were doing the same thing because you stopped by every PokéStop I did. ”

 

It took the man a moment to connect the name and the image with the knowledge he had, but when he did, his eyes turned a lighter shade of grey and Alec couldn’t be happy that the other had nothing to do with the spy world. “Oh, you’re playing the game where saying that you have a bunch of great balls doesn’t get you smacked and in the back of a police car,” he said slowly and Alec bit his tongue not to chuckle.

 

What followed made Alec want to find a time machine and not use such a horrible line that even a drunken teenager wouldn’t think of it or a wall so he could hit his head against it until it cracked so he could see if his brain was still there. But the man seemed to be amused by his antics, chuckling and smiling, holding his guards back from attacking him and silencing his ‘sort-of friend’ – who was very obviously advocating for his zapping.

 

Still, even if the man approved of his geek-ish sense of humour, he was sure that he wasn’t going to see him around after he got whisked away in an armoured Volkswagen and as usual, he was proven wrong not a day later when the man was making his way through the crowds with his nose in his phone and heavy bag slung over his shoulder, his bodyguards not too far from him.

 

Alec rushed to circle the statue then slowed down, holding his hands where they could be seen and waited for the man to bump into him with a smile on his face. And again, what he expected to happen, didn’t happen, the man stopping a step away from his chest. “Mister Alec, a pleasure to see you again,” he mumbled, locking his phone and putting it away. “Do you have a list of amusing exaggerations of why I won’t have lunch with you or do you plan on insisting and thus, annoying me?”

 

He was mentally waving to reaching that point where he was feeding the thin man grapes while sitting on a boat on their way to Bahamas. “I am not in the habit of wearing a fedora,” he joked and the man snorted, “and seeing that today you are wearing a red shirt,” with blocks of bright green and swirls of mauve, “I am afraid to ask if you are from the Enterprise.”

 

The man shook his head, resting his hands on his hips. “You certainly know a lot about movies generally considered to be for geeks. You’ll disappoint me if your next line is inviting me over to your place so I could see you _extensive_ comic book collection.”

 

Alec clicked his tongue because that was exactly what he was planning on saying. “I would never…” He trailed off when he saw the way the man was looking at him, coughing. “Do you want to walk around, in the open, for a bit?”

 

The man thought for a moment before nodding. “I’d turn you down if you did even if I wasn’t immune to lame pickup lines,” the man said, one of them probably crossing his mind because he was giggling.

 

It dawned on Alec then that the might surely had to be taken, his mind instantly going to that hand that kept pulling him out of harm’s way. “I do hope your lover knows how lucky _they_ are,” he said carefully as even though the hand was clearly male, the man assured him that he wasn’t barking up the wrong tree, but he still couldn’t assume that he strictly preferred a gender over the other.

 

The man sighed, pouting for a second. “I do like someone a lot, but _he_ doesn’t really know it and it is for the best as he’s a womanizing prick that I work with.”

 

So there were still chances, even if he ended up being nothing more than a sort-of rebound guy. “Well then, he’s either a bloody idiot if we swings our way.” He went to squeeze the man’s shoulder, but the cold glare made him change his mind.

 

“He doesn’t even know and I am not his type. I’m too…” He trailed off and gestured in his direction. “Anyway, if you just wanted to sleep with me, I am not sorry to shoot down your plans.”

 

Alec shrugged innocently. “I was honestly inviting you to have a simple lunch with me. If that would have led to something else, well then joy to the world, especially mine.”

 

And thus, their daily walks started. They were both mysterious in what they worked as, Alec sort-of lying by saying that he was a retired commander from the army and his new companion dancing around the subject until he finally decided to say that he worked in IT.

 

“A big company that makes you sign hush contracts before giving you assignments,” the man added quickly, even though Alec didn’t push for more information. It was clearly a lie, but the man would tell him what he really worked as when he was ready – though Alec wasn’t afraid because he had asked his few connections that were still in touch with the world no one knew about and they assured him that his friend wasn’t a threat.

 

He also found out that he didn’t like coffee one bit. He liked the smell, but not the taste and politely turned him down even if he offered to buy it for him from whatever coffee shop he chose, just in case the man thought he wanted to poison or roofie him.

 

But that wasn’t it, Q explained. “The coffee tastes so bitter to me that I feel as if my tongue is ready to fall out even if half of the content of the mug is just sugar. Plus, you wouldn’t want to see me high on sugar.” As he was saying that, he was already on his fifth cone of ice-cream and circling Alec like a baby shark getting ready to move in for the kill.

 

On the matter of ice-creams – because the actual cooking was quickly covered with a shrug and a flash of a part of the contact list that was full of numbers for take-out restaurants – his new friend loved chocolate the most, mango the second, vanilla a close third and considered mint to be ‘too cold’. He liked mint tea – mostly when he was sick – but not mint-anything else.  

 

“I don’t like tea,” Alec revealed and the man mock-gasped, clutching his heart.

 

“You _are_ a complete brute,” he announced in an even thicker English accent, tilting his head back and resting his hand against his forehead. “I really cannot be seen with you in public or let people know I associate with tea-haters.”

 

Alec scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t think I am less ashamed of being known to fraternize with someone that shuns coffee!”

 

They had a similar taste in movies, his friend announcing that his favourite one is actually ‘The Rocketeer’ and that he had accidentally set his father’s laboratory – he was a chemistry teacher that dabbed in the world of mechanics, he lied again – on fire when he was on a winter-break when he tried to actually create the jetpack.

 

“By the lack of news about apartment buildings catching on fire because of something else than college students trying to cook for the first time in their life, I’m going to assume you either gave up,” he got elbowed in the gut, but his mysterious friend’s sharp elbows had nothing compared to his toned abdomen, “or you actually created it and that is why you said no to my lunch invitation?” He got elbowed again, but this time the man found just the right spot between his ribs that got him to flinch.

 

They did disagree when it came to a certain TV show, Alec believing that the right person to take the Iron Throne was Jon Snow while his friend argued that, by the end of everything, Danny would be more than perfect to sit on that which had been created by her ancestor. This conversation always lasted well into the night, stopped only by the black Volkswagen that pulled up next to them.  

 

It took him fifteen days to give him a name that was so convoluted and complicated that he didn’t even bother to hold his laughter back as he was saying it, Alec deciding to shorten it to Q – and internally cringing when that letter left his lips, memories of the life that he had abandoned because he was a wreck of an agent, with a bad shoulder and eye, and because he could no longer find it in himself to pretend to be normal until a gun was pointed at him.

 

He must have pulled a face, a scary one, because Q’s had exited the game and his finger was now hovering over the icon for Facebook – though the “F” was a bit off and the shade of blue was just a tad darker than the actual app. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“There was someone’s birthday yesterday and I may have drunk a bit too much,” he lied and Q looked at him like he was well aware of that before holding out a bag of pretzels.

 

“I’m not entirely sure how good this is, but my sort-of friend devours two entire loafs of bread after his wild nights.” He ripped a piece of a pretzel and ate it, as if sensing that Alec thought for a moment that they might be poisoned. “It does seem to make him feel better, but I am not entirely sure it’s real, it’s just a placebo effect, or because he’s just that good of an actor.”

 

Alec nodded his thanks and started to nibble on his pretzels, fondly remembering the time he had walked in on his partner and best friend stuffing himself full with donuts and bread loafs after a wild night of heavy partying and drinking in honour of their first mission together being completed successfully. “Ice-cream is not really food, but I think pretzels do so does this count as the two of us having lunch?” he asked and Q flashed him a small smile, shaking his head and returning to trying to take over the Gym they were in front of by using Alec’s phone.

 

“The game is still a bit glitchy as the bloody thing doesn’t actually dodge when I swipe.” But Q had successfully dodged his question. “That or your phone is ancient.”

 

Alec took the phone away from Q and started to expertly dodge the attacks, holding his finger down on the screen for a second to get his Charizard – named ‘Matches’ – do his special attack and finish his enemy in a single hit – though his CP was 2068, so Alec wondered how the hell Q was losing in the first place when the enemy was a Venusaur with a CP of 850.

 

“Don’t you give me that look, Alec; you didn’t manage to win the portal in my name either and you don’t even have to swipe or tap too much on the screen.” Not that he did, but from what Q told him, Alec gathered that this was a gate he considered to be a crucial point from the many triangles he wanted to draw all over the city and he was currently distracting his enemies from his plan. 

 

Taking a chance, Alec tapped his nose, as usual taking note of the bodyguards – now ten in number – that stopped pretending to be civilians in favour of resting their hands on their weapons. “And don’t you pretend you’re actually disappointed in that, Mister ‘backstory at the start of the game’.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, though it might have been directed more at his bodyguards than at him, since he also subtly waved his long fingers to keep them at bay. “Well, _my_ game needs it since it’s not over twenty years old. By game standards, your Pokémon avatars should all be wearing adult diapers and using a cane to slowly make its way around Google Maps when the servers decide to work.”

 

“And by that logic, your game insignia should be crawling around them and crying every two hours,” Alec quickly shot back, both men glaring at each other before breaking out into laughter and returning to their respective games and small talk.

 

The following day, Q didn’t show up and Alec panicked, thinking that he had done or said something to offend his new friend. But he was proven wrong yet again –thank all the gods and cosmic powers for that – two days later, Q slumped on the bench next to him and groaned. “I drank three cups coffee,” he announced suddenly and shrugged, pulling a disgusted face.

 

Alec squeezed his shoulder, giving him a pitying look. “Was it that horrible at work?” Q sighed and when he looked at Alec, the man finally saw just how tired he was, huge bugs under his bloodshot eyes and the shirt he had the last time they had met peeking out from under a brown cardigan.

 

“Sometimes, but just sometimes, I actually wish my entire workday was me answering the bloody phone and asking them if they turned the device off and on again.” He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you manage to catch that rare Pokémon you wanted?”

 

Though it didn’t take Alec more than a minute to pull up the creature on his phone, Q’s head rested against his shoulder, body relaxed, breathing evenly, and very obvious asleep. “He trusts me enough to fall asleep in my presence,” he whispered to the three bodyguards that had slowly edged towards them. “And I am sure that you agree with me that it would be a very bad idea to wake him up.”

 

“I can take him without waking him up, as he has a habit of falling asleep at his work station and there’s also the fact that I will take him because I’d like my Quartermaster back, _Alec_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments <3
> 
> Please continue to enjoy

 

It came as a surprise for himself when he realized that Q was the centre of his world. It suddenly struck him during a mission, while he was bleeding all over the slightly scorched Quartermaster who still had enough energy in him to scold him even though he hadn’t slept in over thirty hours and had been forced to keep up with James.

 

At first, he thought that his need to silence him with a kiss was because of adrenaline but when he blinked and realized that all that was keeping him company was a heavy silence, his need to see the man to make sure that he was still okay, touch his hair to see if it was still soft passed the burned tips, hear him breathing, and hear him talking greater than before chased away all traces of doubt.

 

“Agent Bond, get back in that bed before you tear open your stitches,” the head nurse greeted him the second his foot touched the cold ground. Knowing that the man wouldn’t listen to her, she walked over to him and pushed him back in the bed, practically tying him down with the covers. “Must we do this every bloody time you end up in here, agent Bond?”

 

“How is it that your beside manners get worse every time I see you, Mrs Taggard?” He asked as he smiled an obvious forced smile, trying to wiggle free.

 

The nurse clicked her tongue, eyes narrowed. “Because you’re a stubborn man-child, who thinks alcohol can fix everything and ignores the fact that half of the medicine we stuffed you with is deadly when combined with alcohol.”

 

“This time, my target – in a non-deadly way – is my Quartermaster. So could you please wheel me over to his room or provide me with some information regarding his health if he is not in Medical.”

 

The woman blinked a few times, then checked on his pulse and blood pressure because the first thing James Bond always did after a mission that went tits up, was try to get some hard liquor before asking for the fate of his comrades. “The Quartermaster is indeed in Medical right now, resting. It’s nothing too serious, just exhaustion and a few burns here and there that won’t leave any scar behind.”

 

James refused to sit still until he saw the Quartermaster for himself and even though Medical liked to throw threats around about employing  the use of tranquilizing darts on them to get them to listen to them, they didn’t actually do it, so the nurse called on of the orderlies to wheel the agent in the room of the sleeping genius.

 

He looked Q over, counter the places where he was bandaged and then took Q’s pulse, finally sighing in relief, resting his face in his hands and he thought: _“Here’s the man that wasn’t supposed to leave his laboratory or piss on MI6 rules and protocols or endanger himself for the sake of agents that were supposed to be seen as just guns, having just done all that for my sake.”_

 

And he had it on good authority – Eve – that the Quartermaster only walked those five hundred more miles just for him and no one else. And what did he do in return? Break his equipment, lounge on his office sofa whenever the civilian life got too boring from him, and get him hurt on those missions that he wasn’t supposed to be on.

 

Well, things were going to change from now on. He was going to lounge even more on Q’s sofa, do his best to bring back his equipment… Okay he was already doing that, but it wasn’t working, so maybe he could walk him home, except his already doing that but Q simply didn’t know it. In that case, maybe he should focus on bringing him his… No, he was also already doing that, both as an excuse to sneak in branch and to make sure the man actually ate because he was a walking – hot, sexy, with hair and skin that begged to be patted, kissed, and stroked – stick.

 

“Agent Bond, are you okay?” The nurse asked, squeezing his shoulder, putting a stop to his plans and thoughts that made little to no sense by this point.

 

“Please make sure he gets his tea the second he wakes up, or else you’ll deal with something far worse than me.” The woman snorted, wheeled him back to his room, but James smelled Q’s tea sometime in the morning, when his mind almost defeated the drugs he was under.

 

He also sensed the door being opened, but he was too tired to open his eyes and turn to greet whoever walked in with a cocky remark. “Thank you for the tea, Bond,” Q said softly, leaning a bit closer – he smelled like mint, medicine, and singed hair. “But next time, I’d prefer getting you back from a mission in the most likely outcome and not via an extraction got thanks to some unofficial friends of mine from a burning building.” He felt the man’s soft hands brush his forehead and… he woke up alone again.

 

He did his best but his missions refused to go even remotely okay, his planned lounging on the sofa in the most indecent ways until he was noticed and digging around to find out for sure that he truly knew the things Q liked was cut short when the sofa caught on fire because a newbie didn’t respect the testing area – Q’s hair getting singed _again_ but he was perfectly fine otherwise because he had been busy showing bond all the intricate details of a piece of equipment that had recently ended up in the stomach of a shark – and the food he brought was always accidentally forgotten.

 

But one good thing happened and, thanks to a phone game, he started to openly walk Q home with the added bonus of getting armfuls of the man to keep him from walking into poles, trip, fall down sewers, and so on and so forth. He kind-of missed the coffee that Q served him– the best Colombian blend – whenever he lost their bet, but he didn’t feel all that bad because he got to hug the thin boffin and hold him by the arm and shoulder so he could guide him to safety.

 

Missions had to ruin everything, and not because he didn’t trust Q’s bodyguards – which of course he didn’t because they weren’t him and yes, he was ignoring the scratches Q got because of him. The reason he hated going away on missions was because the path to Q’s everything was left open and no one was there to glare on his behalf – Eve saying that she wasn’t going to do anyone’s dirty job if James suddenly lost his balls, R glaring at him before he could even open his mouth, M running him out of her office, and Tanner outright zapping him for whatever strange reason.

 

So when his biggest fear – other than coming back home only to realise that he no longer had a home, and other than finding Q dead/kidnapped/crippled/hating him/a traitor – started to come into fruition – according to what Q’s guards were reporting – he sped up his mission and finished early to come over and meet the person who might steal his Quartermaster’s attention and affection, especially since no one could find anything precise about the would-be lover and the bodyguards were refusing to send him a picture while he was on duty.

 

He only told Eve what he was planning and she was kind enough to have someone drop his fastest car at the airport, while also informing him that he _will_ speak with his psychiatrist after this and that she _will_ gun him down if he dared to harm a single hair on Q’s head or his hopefully not yet lover.

 

That was the furthest thing from his plan and namely, just meet the bloody man, growl at him that he was going to rip his heart from his chest if anything happened to Q’s, and also see what the man had that he didn’t and if it was really too late. And then he saw who the man was and wanted nothing more than to crush his head, thus ensuring that his former best friend and supposedly trustworthy partner, was really dead.

 

“He trusts me enough to fall asleep in my presence,” the very much alive bastard whispered, clearly enjoying the way Q felt against his shoulder. “And I am sure that you agree with me that it would be a very bad idea to wake him up.”

 

It was a bad idea to let him breathe the same air, as far as James was concerned. “I can take him without waking him up, as he has a habit of falling asleep at his work station and there’s also the fact that I will take him because I’d like my Quartermaster back, _Alec_ ,” he snarled and watched the man turn a few shades whiter.

 

“Bond?” Q muttered, clearly struggling to open his eyes, feeling around for his keyboard. “I got you, don’t worry,” he continued and got up, holding on to Alec’s head. “R, bring me my tea and make it extra strong.”

 

James held out one of his hands, the other resting on his weapon. “Quartermaster, not to alarm you, but you’re using a traitor as a cane.” He didn’t wait for Q to do anything more than reach out for him before pulling him behind him, gun out, safety off, and pointed at Alec. “And they say that I don’t know how to stay dead.” Alec opened his mouth, hands held before him, but James wasn’t in the mood to hear his voice now because he had come to terms just last year that his friend would never answer his questions again. “You are not talking, Alec. You don’t get to talk, because you’re _dead_.”

 

Alec looked hurt and that was good, even if it wasn’t even a fraction of what James had felt when he had attended the empty casket funeral or when he deposited everything his friend had in an empty storage room. But that didn’t mean he planned on keeping silent, his tongue always getting him into more trouble than he already was. “You know I would never—”

 

“Dead people don’t talk,” James growled, turning to glare at the wide awake Q when his gun locked up. “Quartermaster, it is kind of hard to keep you safe if you don’t let me use my weapon.”

 

Instead of acting like a sensible man and releasing his gun, Q grabbed onto his arm and forced it down, taking the weapon away from him. “We are in a public place, Bond,” he hissed, “and you are clearly ruled by your feelings right now. I know it is not in your nature, but _please_ don’t act rash.” The look he was giving him right now was more powerful than mind control machine anyone could come up with, so James relaxed a little, getting a fraction of a smile as a reward.

 

But the little calm he had went down the drain the second he heard Alec letting out a surprised sound. “You like _him_ ,” the traitor said slowly, the unwanted realization making his eyes widen.

 

“And I won’t allow you to touch so much as a single hair on his head,” James growled once again, pushing Q to his chest and trying to get his coat around him, as if that would make the other forget about his existence.

 

Alec grinned then, eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t talk with you. I was talking with your apparent Quartermaster. But this is just precious; you like him and he has no idea and vice versa.” He tried to edge away from them, but the other agents quickly rushed to block his exit. “I honestly had no idea he was MI6, let alone _the_ Quartermaster. The Faustian deal I cut with Ernst included me not getting in contact with anyone…” he trailed off, sighing. “I am sorry, James; I should have told you, but I couldn’t. Your life… The life of others were at—”

 

“You shut up and stay right where you are because we will talk later,” James breathed out, eyes fixed on Q. “Quartermaster, a silly question that’s border line high-school-ish, but do you like me?”

 

Q snorted, shaking his head. “We are indeed one letter in a locker away from high school at this point, Bond.” He tugged on his tie, grabbing his wrist. “Bond, leave the weapons to the person who’s not facing a ghost.” He wiggled out from shelter and crossed his arms over his chest. “As for you…”

 

“Yes, yes, I know.” Alec held out his hands in front of him as one of the bodyguards quickly tied his hand with a tie-wrap. “But I must stress the importance of MI6 getting ready for war with a force that might be far superior as it was unknowingly allowed to grow like cancer in the shadows of the world.”

 

James snorted, glancing at Q. “Who knew that ghost could be poets, or so good with words? I, for one, always thought that you needed a medium to hear the _dearly_ departed talk.” Q squeezed his arm and a bit of calmness washed over him, taking some of the bite out of the words that followed. “I assure you that MI6 is nothing like you remember.” The new MI6 had Q and, with no disrespect for the Major or his creations, there agency was in the safest hands in the universe.

 

“Or it’s exactly as you remember it, if not worse,” Q muttered, eyes narrowed. “I did a background check on you and _nothing_ about you being part of our agency came up and even though you had no idea I was the Quartermaster or even remotely connected to MI6, you still had to have someone tell you that I was safe.” Alec opened his mouth but before James could even fill it with his fist, Q wiggled his finger and the bastard’s mouth instantly closed. “You may no longer be officially an agent, you still have the instinct of one; you wouldn’t be able to breathe the same air of me if you didn’t know that I wasn’t killing you.”

 

Alec easily incapacitated the two bodyguards that were leading him to an SUV, breaking the zip tie so he could grab James’ hands and stop him from strangling him. “Rest assured that none of your current IT crew is a cannery, Quartermaster. And the person who was kind enough to confirm that you are indeed safe and to hide the fact that I am in London instead of the place where I was banished to—” He suddenly stopped, eyes wide. “James, I’d advise M to whisk the Quartermaster away to the safest bunker that no one knows about because I may have accidentally revealed who he really is.”

 

James punched him, Q stopping him before he could punch him again. “Make no mistake that I will get to have a private _conversation_ with you, Alec.”

 

But first, they had to deal with the shady organization and sure enough, the second Q ran a close scan with tools that where from his own, personal computers, he found a ton of worms and Trojans. They couldn’t call all the agents they had on the field back for fear of tipping off the bad guys, nor could they really trust anyone with MI6. As a result, Q was forced to discuss with M different plans which they fed to the employees while only James knew the real one.

 

Two months later and five out of the fifteen groups turned out to be filled with traitors which lead to the take down of various groups that formed Spectre – and to Q being slightly depressed because he had really trusted those people and he had even befriended them, although most of them had extenuating circumstances as they were being blackmailed into assisting the enemy.

 

All the while, Alec was being detained in a not-quite jail cell – bloody thing did not have bars nor was it just a tube made out of glass, the bed was comfortable, he had windows, access to books and could ask for DVDs or everything from old movies to porn – because Q was way too kind with the traitor and the MI6 investigation led to the conclusion that the man had kept his mouth shut about anything and everything related to them and did, in fact, do his best to keep them safe.

 

Still, James didn’t really care what the report said because Alec had betrayed him and abandoned him – in the middle of a mission, in the middle of a lonely existence. Eve tried to get him to give Alec a second chance, but it was really easy to tune the woman out and pretend he was alone. However, he couldn’t really ignore it when _Q_ said that Alec asked to see him.

 

“Why do you keep going to him?” He grumbled like the mature man that he was, always moving closer to make sure that Q still smelled like himself – and each and every time, Q pinched his nose and glared at him.

 

“It’s because he needs help with his balls.” Q loved saying that because the first time James heard it, that bloody electric rat game was the farthest thing from his mind and he literally froze for five minutes, saved only by Q’s soft lips against his ear, whispering: “I was talking about his game, my perverted agent.”

 

James took a deep breath, Q’s intoxicating smell helping him calm down and silently lament that they were much too busy trying to stop the possible destruction of the world – and his certain death – to actually discuss their relationship or put a label on it, although the part of MI6 that was still in the trust circle had no problem doing that for them.

 

“Don’t expect me to talk with him,” James promised because he was a very mature adult and Boothroyd was completely wrong, but of course he broke it in the first five minutes of being face to face with the man for the first time. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop putting your agent moves on my Quartermaster. You left; you don’t get to have a Quartermaster anymore and I sure as hell won’t let you take mine.”

 

Alec’s face lit up as he pushed up against the insult to jail doors all over the world. “In all honesty, James, I’m interested in Q as a person, not as the Quartermaster.” He chuckled, tapping the glass. “I’m surprised and disappointed that you didn’t make your moves on him up until now, but also very pleased because—”

 

“No,” James interrupted him, hitting the door. “Just no, Alec. He’s not like… He’s not someone we’d share,” he said in a softer voice. “You look and sound good for a dead guy.”

 

“James, I truly couldn’t risk your life to tell you that I was alive. I actually only recently managed to sneak back in London and I was hoping I’d bump into you,” Alec started to explain, but James started to walk away. “James, please believe that I didn’t betray you! I wouldn’t! I _couldn’t_ and you know that.”

 

“I am afraid that I don’t know anything, Alec,” James said softly, the door closing behind him with a heavy metallic sound which was somehow more painful than the sound of dirt being thrown over an empty casket.

 

A long time ago, James was able to easily sleep beside Alec, show him his back while he was unarmed. But now, he… Now he was tensed when he had to turn his back and leave the room where he was being held, despite the fact that he had a gun and Alec was unarmed – not to mention the five guards that pretended they weren’t there and the six security cameras that constantly zoomed in and out and changed position.  

 

Alec still tried to explain the next time James came to visit him, but because the man instantly walked out the second he opened his mouth, it was decided that staring at each other in silence was for the best.

 

But back to something that James actually cared about, MI6 was stuck at a standstill when it came to Spectre because they didn’t know anything more about the head other than that he was called Ernst and that for whatever reason, he had it in for James and everyone associated with him.

 

So Q came up with a new plan, one that James was fully against. “It’s a sure way to get yourself killed, Q,” he pleaded with the man who looked even more like a shadow than before. He pulled Q in his arms, resting his lips against his forehead, feeling the man relax a little and wrap his arms around his waist. “I say using me as bait is the surest way to get Ernst out of hiding.”

 

“You are our main agent, Bond,” Q said softly. “As Alec said—” James scoffed and moved away, but Q grabbed his face and forced him to listen. “ _James_ , please trust that this plan will work. Let Ernst think we sent you after another one of his organization’s tentacles so he could come after me.”

 

Stubborn man with brilliant plans! This was the surest way to get himself killed, James knew it. “Can’t you go back in your laboratory and come up with _something_ , anything that would simply erase this Ernst from existence?”

 

Q chuckled and in one of their rare shows of affection, placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Alec is still loyal to you, James. He would never betray you and, by association, me. Trust that he can keep me safe long enough for the trap to be sprung.”

 

James sighed. Q was clearly his greatest weakness so what would happen after Ernst was disposed of? Or worse still, what would happen if Q were to… James shook his head, growling. “I’ll burn the world and use that bastard as a match stick to light it up,” he promised and pulled Q closer still, biting his lower lip before slipping his tongue in Q’s mouth.

 

“You always had a very roundabout way of saying that I am hot,” Alec’s amused voice interrupted them, James shoving Q behind him and up against a wall by accident. “Oh, I take it you told my very jealous friend here that you’ve fed me ad nursed me back to health with your _kindness_?”

 

His head was going to explode and he wasn’t going to be held responsible for the limbs that he was about to rip and the tongue he was going to force feed Alec after plucking out every single tooth out. “ ** _What_**? You dared to-”

 

“He’s talking about the time I gave him a bag of pretzels because he had a hungover and even if this was exactly as Alec made it sound, it wouldn’t be your business nor would you have any right to even think against it,” Q said in the driest voice James had ever heard being directed at him and it instantly made him release Alec’s throat and pull away, ashamed but not entirely apologetic about his impulse to erase from existence the traitor who did not deserve to breathe the same air as him, let alone _touch_ him.

 

“You should have let him suffer—”

 

Q elbowed him and stepped on his foot – or at least James _thought_ Q did that, because the man was so skinny that his weight didn’t really register with him. “Not the time for this,” he hissed and then turned his attention to Alec. “I trust everything is ready?”

                                   

Coughing and rearranging his jacket, Alec nodded. “All we need now is the Neanderthal to leave and for me to make away with you so I can get my life back in exchange for his happiness.”

 

James really, _really_ hated this plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to have an overall plot beyond the two dorks playing their apps and Bond feeling left out, but...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments.
> 
> I am sorry that this story is taking so long to finish and it was originally just a silly idea of James being jealous that Q created such a quick connection with someone who was supposed to be dead.

 

Alec couldn’t help but feel his heart constantly drop in his stomach every time he glanced at the gagged and tied up Q despite the constant glares he got that were meant to convey that he wasn’t supposed to act like this. But it wasn’t his fault that all he wanted to do was drag him back to MI6, throw him in James’ arms and then shove the two in a submarine where he’d keep them safe and sound until he rid the world of Ernst and his Spectre. Q had that air of innocence about him that wasn’t typical for those who rubbed elbows with assassins; even Boothroyd lacked it, despite looking like the nicest grandfather on earth.

 

“Mister Trevelyan,” an eerily soft voice echoed around the empty room, followed by the sounds of guns getting cocked the second Alec reached for his weapon. “Settle down children,” the man chided as he finally stepped into the light, his shadow falling behind him in such a way that it looked like he had tentacles.

 

This was the second time Alec met with him face to face, but the first time he was blinded with pain and his own blood running down his face, so he couldn’t pay attention to the way he looked. But now… Well, ignoring the ominous shadow and the garb that made him think of a zealot from the fifties, the man looked harmless. Hell, even his smile looked normal and at a certain distance, it was very easy to miss that spark of madness in his eyes.

 

“I thought I was meeting a business man, not an overly dramatic actor who loved making an entrance,” Alec mocked because that was what he did when he clearly wasn’t in control – something that it could potentially be a deadly coping way, but he was still breathing and he wasn’t going to stop doing this anytime soon.

 

The man narrowed his eyes, but ignored him in favour of Q, drifting over to him and grabbing his chin. “So you are the Quartermaster,” he breathed out, chuckling. “The clever boy— No, the clever _man_ who still managed to get MI6 to come out on top even after he had unknowingly sprung Silva’s trap.” He pushed his face in Q’s hair and took a deep breath, Alec clasping his hands behind his back to hold himself from starting to beat him. “You smell of tea and gunpowder with just a hint of James’ favourite aftershave.” He clicked his tongue and tapped Q’s forehead, stealing his glasses and crushing them. “He didn’t sleep with you yet,” and here he moved to pat and squeeze Alec’s shoulder. “I can’t believe he truly loves the boffin.”

 

Alec’s heart had to be dissolved by his stomach acid by now because he was feeling horrible, both on the edge of a heart attack and about to pule. “You may stalk him day and night,” he started, sounding uncaring, “but I was his best friend; I know his tastes best.”

 

Ernst hummed, starting to poke the side of Q’s face. “Come now, Mister Trevelyan. We both know that you and darling James were much more than something as simple as friends.” He crouched down in front of Q and cupped his face, caressing him tenderly. “But you wouldn’t know this, would you, Quartermaster? You couldn’t have known that your darling 007 and the walking dead over there shared literally everything, their bodies and lovers included. I dare say that if I hadn’t forced this one to play dead like the good dog he is, you would been anymore more than a simple fuck blanket between them.”

 

Q started to struggle then, managing to get a headbutt in before getting slapped. “You lack so many manners,” Ernst said as he was rolling up his sleeves and putting on his gloves, a woman dressed in a business suit walking out in the open with a little tray of knives and other sharp things, a man rushing to set up a camera. “But I’ve trained dogs and horses much more stubborn than you, so I have no doubt that by the end of the night you’ll be an obedient little pup. Well, that or you’ll be begging for death. Either way, we’ll have so much _fun_.”

 

A perfect double oh agent was stripped of their feelings, of their humanity. They were taught not to care and to passively watch as someone got hurt if that meant that their mission would be complete. But perfect double oh agents existed only on paper and even if they were real, Alec was the furthest thing away from being one – without taking into account the fact that he was no longer one.

 

So he stepped in, kicking the camera down and easily throwing the would-be cameraman against the wall while Ernst watched everything with an amused look in his eyes until he decided he was bored and lazily moved up his index finger to stop his army of guards from gunning Alec down. “You have turned into such a wet blanket, Mister Trevelyan. I do wonder if all your—”

 

“I am not here to get blood on my favourite turtleneck,” Alec interrupted him, backhanding a nearby guard, hoping that it would help alleviate the clearly growing doubts that Ernst had regarding his true intentions. “And I was never curious of how a snuff is made, so if we could focus on getting you out of my life before I die of old age?”

 

But Ernst’s look of utter disappointment which reminded Alec of a sullen child who was told to turn off his game and go to bed already – and he got the distinct impression that a psychiatrist would agree with him and go on to add that he was this deranged because of having the emotional maturity of sadistic five year old – hinted that he was words away from blowing his already flimsy cover. “Many people in your place would beg me to be allowed to die of old age and let me tell you that they get to do that if they don’t interrupt my fun.”

 

A last chance, one in which he should bite his tongue, swallow his humanity, and allow Q to get a few scratches until his band of merry boffins managed to get access to the main Spectre computer – which Q speculated that it might take between two hours and an entire bloody day, or more if they were unlucky – but he couldn’t. “Your version of fun is disgusting and I changed my mind.” He made his way to Q and started to untie him. “No, I’ll take him away; that’s going to hurt James—”

 

Ernst huffed, pushing his gun against Q’s temple – the game was up. “I was really hoping you would pass this test, Alec. I had grown fond of you and your antics to the point where I turned a blind eye when he wormed your way back to London.” Alec snarled and he grinned, cocking the gun, shaking his head. “Continue to act like a loyal dog, 006, and lay down for me or call your former lover and tell him that because of your hard-headedness, his current lover’s brains are all over this room,” he ordered and Alec backed away from Q, raising his hands as Ernst lowered his gun.     

 

He ended stripped of all his equipment, tied up against Q, chest to his back, arms around his middle, legs entangled with his – if only they weren’t on their way to be executed – and in the trunk of a car because Ernst wanted to deliver ‘darling James’ a perfectly wrapped gift. Alec managed to suggest his own head in a box as well as a hard-drive with the names of all involved with Spectre right before a knife was pushed against Q’s neck to silence him, the trunk shut with a loud thud before the car started moving.

 

“It may be dark, but I can still feel your glare, Q,” Alec said after a moment and the young man started to struggle instantly, ‘accidentally’ hitting him in the chin a few times. “He knew it was a trap, Q; what was I supposed to do? Let him cut you up just to prove that I was truthful in my intent to betray James?” He pushed his head against the back of Q’s, sighing as the man wiggled a bit more, rubbing his head against his hands. “Let me make it clear then this is not what I have in mind when it comes to tying—” Q hit him in the chin hard, growling and rubbing his face harder against his hands, until it finally dawned on the dizzy Alec that he was expecting him to pull away the duct tape.

 

A subdued yelp followed by a cuss and what surely had to be tears in his eyes later, Q was already halfway through explaining his backup plan. “Take off either one off for my shoes,” he snarled when his instructions weren’t heard the first time, managing to curl in such a way that Alec froze for a moment and remind himself that they were in a dire situation. “Sometimes this year and preferably before we get murdered in a sadistic way,” Q prompted and nudged Alec with his backside – which did not help the situation at all.

 

It dawned on Alec that they hadn’t really checked Q over for any weapons or gadgets, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was a slip of mind. “This could be a trap,” he said carefully as he struggled to get a hold of Q’s shoe, pushing his face just above the man’s backside. “We’re also in a car that’s going about 75 kilometres per hour and it doesn’t sound like we’re alone on the road.”

 

Q fiddled with the shoe a little before giving Alec a strip of something. “If he wanted us dead, he would have put a bullet through our skulls before sticking us in here.” He ripped a piece of whatever Alec was holding and the rope around his arms dissolved, leaving behind nothing but the foul smell of burned flesh and hear around his wrists. “I’ll turn around and stick the rest of the strip to melt the trunk’s lock.” He undid Alec’s bounds. “I’ll need you to push against me as much as you can because this thing might cause you serious—”

 

Alec pushed Q against his aide of the truck as much as he could. “You’re wounded enough as it is.” He covered Q’s mouth with one hand and slapped the strip against the trunk with his other, grunting because of his arm’s position and the burn he got.

 

But at least the trunk was open now, not that it did them any good. Ernst might have ordered for them not to be killed, but it was open season for all parts of their bodies behind which no important organ was. On top of that, they didn’t have any—

 

“The advantage of having a large foot is that I can actually fit in two tiny guns in the shoes,” Q said and took off his other shoe. “Six bullets each, non-rechargeable,” he continued to explain and even though they looked like toys, Alec wanted to pull him to his chest and kiss him.

 

But that would have to wait because the car came to a sudden halt as did the others around them and people were rushing towards them with their weapons drawn. Alec had to wonder just how new they were because he would have attempted to incapacitate the would-be escapees while the cars were still moving, either by using his gun or by having their driver increase the car’s speed.

 

“Stay here until I deal with them,” Alec ordered, jumping out of the car, shooting a man right between the eyes, and then sitting on the trunk to make sure that Q would actually do what he was told.

 

His heart stopped when one of the men accidentally shot the trunk, flying into a blind range and beating the man within an inch of his life with his own weapon, using him as a shield until the other five were dead. It was only then that the red he saw in front of his eyes and the low ringing in his ears died out to the point that he was able to hear what was going on around hi, including the erratic knowing on the hood of the trunk and the slew of cuss words that were coming from within.

 

“It’s bloody armoured, you walking sac of testosterone!” Q was still shouting even as Alec pulled him out and patted him down, making sure that he was unharmed. “I mean, I am honoured that you’d avenge my death, but I’d prefer it if the whole thing didn’t cost yours in return, you giant lump of anger and no speck of brain in sight!” He swatted his hands away and then focused on the car, clicking his tongue. “All my hard work,” he muttered and sent Alec a glare.

 

“Am I missing some—oh. This is the car that you told me about; James’ Aston Martin.” He frowned and squeezed Q’s shoulder. “We still have traitors within if Ernst has it.”

 

Q turned and smiled at him. “We? Why, Mister Trevelyan, could it be that you wish to regain your double oh status?”  

 

“What can I say? MI6 has James and,” he cupped Q’s chin and tugged him closer, “you.” A few more millimetres and he would get to feel Q’s lips on his and finally taste him.

 

But Q turned away from him, covering his mouth with his hand, grinning. “James gets to kiss first and you…” He trailed off and got in the car, already fiddling with a laptop he found lying inside the car. “If you don’t hurry it up, I’ll probably crash the car a few dozen times on my way to James.”

 

“You tease,” muttered Alec as he hopped behind the wheel. He took the laptop away from Q and ripped parts of his shirt to mend his wounds, using some wet napkins he found around to attempt to clean them first. “He still has tracker on him?”

 

Q shook his head, but still smiled. “He loses those more than he does his earwigs.” He patted his head and took his laptop back. “But to stop my constant nagging and yapping,” he gasped when Alec started the car, rushing to put his seatbelt on, “he let me implant a tracker in one of his teeth.”   

 

“You say he wanted to stop your nagging and I say he wanted to always let you know that he was out of danger even if he couldn’t use his words.” The last doubt he might have had about James truly caring about Q had disappeared the second he saw how protective and jealous he was when he saw the young man using his shoulder as a pillow. The only thing this new information he got from Q did was make him wonder when the two would tie the knot and if he would be allowed to at least attend the wedding.

 

Of course he still cared for James in _that_ special kind of way and his interest in Q went beyond that of a single night, but it was clear that what once might have been, could never come to be. Ignoring that James hated his guts, Q didn’t strike him as the type of person who would be okay with a relationship that involved more than one lover – though there was a bit of interest on Q’s part which the younger man would never allow to grow beyond that.

 

Not that he would truly ever think about doing something to hurt James, especially his heart – even though he technically already did when he pulled off the whole dying act. But even then, he hadn’t meant to hurt him. Just keep him and the world he loved safe and he had hopped and begged whatever greater power existed in the universe to make James say those magical words he always used to detach himself from the dead he cared about, but no such luck.

 

How he had hated Ernst for providing him with that tape of his funeral and how much he had hated himself for not being better trained and prepared and screwing up in such a way that it came between hurting James and… hurting James. Whoever said that everyone always has a choice clearly had never been placed in a situation when there was only an illusion of choice.

 

“James!” Q breathed out and Alec realized that he had finally managed to establish a visual connection to the man. “Our part of the plan didn’t go accordingly,” that was an understatement of the year, “but from what I can tell, my secondary team technicians are still syphoning out the required information under the cover of the worm implanted by the first one.” Why was he getting the feeling that he hadn’t been fully filled in on the plan

 

“ _Got the coded message from R earlier. I trust that the sustained wounds are within your mission parameters?”_ Q nodded without hesitating, but Alec saw the way James narrowed his eyes. _“ Then where are your glasses? Why are you holding your hands like that?”_ James bombarded Q with questions that were impossible to have an answer he’d find agreeable, frowning as he moved his head a little to catch sight of Alec.

 

“Hey, if our secret safe house is still stocked properly, tigr—”

 

“ _Don’t call me that_ ,” James snarled. “ _Don’t think that him breathing, like he should be, means that my anger has diminished to the point where I **don’t** still want to smash your head against a wall until you pass out,_ ” Alec still counted this as a win because up until now, James wanted to bury him. “ _I just sent R the message, so Eve should be moving into the right ambush position. ”_

 

Alec glanced at Q who was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I am a clever man, Alec, but not completely full of myself. Ernst, however…” He shrugged and brushed the laptop screen before shutting it off and leaning over him to buckle his seatbelt. “As much as it pains me, she’ll ram the car off the road and then she’ll proceed to take us into protective custody. The rest should be obvious.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's left is the epilogue. 
> 
> Please enjoy~

To say that his overall plan was convoluted was an understatement. But, it was easy to see why such a plan was needed when dealing with such a deranged man and Q was rather proud of himself for being able to come up with it – and frankly, a little bit scared of his own mind, picturing Silva applauding and praising him. 

“Did everyone understand what they are supposed to do?” He asked and Eve narrowed her eyes while R crossed her arms over her chest, Tanner cussing silently. 

M didn’t look happier and neither did Mallory, but they knew that they were at a point where didn’t have much choice. “Quartermaster, if you are sure that you can trust your technicians, then our fate is in your hands,” M said slowly, clasping her hands under her chin. “Although I do wish you’d reconsider your main agents for this. I do trust Bond,” she rushed to say before Q could argue, “but can you vouch that he will not go off the tracks the second you get a scratch and he finds out?”

“And then there is the former 006,” the usually quiet Mallory chimed in. “It is true that so far we didn’t find anything to indicate that he’d be a—”

“I trust him,” Q interrupted, eyes narrowed, daring anyone at the table to challenge his judgement. 

No one did – at least out loud – and the convoluted plan was free to start. First, James was sent out on an obvious trap, only to switch places with the plane’s pilot who was 009 and lie low just at the borders of London, waiting for Q’s signal and move in on Ernst and that was where the easy part of the plan ended. The convoluted part was the beginning, made to look insultingly childish at a first glance to the point that not even Alec knew all of it.

The former agent was supposed to bust out of the MI6 jail which was not an easy task – but sadly and embarrassingly, doable. He was supposed to pick up Q as a guaranteed hostage which was sure to get Ernst’s attention because there was no doubt by now that James was very interested in him. And even if there was a doubt, a missing Quartermaster was bound to grab the man’s curiosity or at least get across the message that Alec wanted his attention.

But Q was sure that Ernst would see through their little play and took great care to create a backups upon backups, feeling like he was about to go insane with how hard his head hurt from all the possibilities he had to take into account and decide which were too ridiculous to actually consider. Yet it pleased him that he had been right about Ernst wishing to hurt him mostly because James cared for him and – in a way – that Alec couldn’t find it in himself to allow for that to pass. 

Admittedly, one plan that was created when the sun was rising to find him in the same clothes and in the same building for a second time with only a total of eight hours of sleep right before James threw him over his shoulder and dragged him home, paid off in the form of finding the last mole he had in his department via in the form of James’ Aston Martin finding its way in Ernst’s hands and an invisible ink of a specific colour that had his closest minions have been spreading across their hands from the start of the plan – Eve would be the one who did the actual discovering once she dawned the right set of googles, but the end result was still the same.

On top of that, getting stuffed in a trunk with the man and pretending he wasn’t aware that he was interested was just a very disturbing bonus, Q’s own mind drifting just for a second at a picture of James on his other side and the three of them in a bed because he honestly needed a good rump and a moment where he could whimper and cling freely while the feeling of safety and pleasure washed over him in waves.

“Q, should I get the real Medical involved?” Eve asked worriedly in a hushed voice as she marched a cuffed Alec at gunpoint in a MI6 car while he was being carefully guided towards the normal looking ambulance.

“A bit dizzy, but otherwise fine,” he assured her and Alec, blinking in Morse code that he expected them to keep to this plan as he did not have a backup for it. “Bonds’ car is cursed, I swear,” he grumbled to who was supposed to be 004 acting as a doctor, only for his jaw to drop when he saw that he was facing James. “Do you hate me?” He asked bluntly, snatching the pair of glasses from the man’s hand. “Or are you incapable of following a simple plan?”

“Following a simple plan?” James echoed him, dabbing at the thin cuts all across his face with no trace of gentleness, clearly fuming. “What is simple about all of this, Q? Sewing strips of dangerous material that could melt your skin off like you were in some kind of a gore movie because you thought they might search you even after you were presented to them on a silver platter?” He tugged arms forward and undid Alec’s bandages, outright pouring the medicinal alcohol, ignoring the low hiss that left Q’s lips.

“That seems simple to me, yes. As does—” 

“Add that on top of you deciding to be fake-kidnapped three times, only for the second time to be real and then be sure that you wouldn’t be air-lifted out of there because this month’s bloody homicidal maniac wouldn’t opt for the sensible just to spite me?” It was very rare for James to raise his voice and Q never heard him do so towards one of his companions. “You are a genius and I love seeing you take over Gates with your twisted plans and I have no words to describe what I feel whenever I see, hear, or live through one of your complicated plans bringing us all back home, but using yourself as bait or as nothing more than an expendable pawn does nothing but anger and…” He trailed off and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly, and kissing his earlobe. 

Q hugged him back and breathed in his scent, feeling a bit of the stress, fear, and annoyance wash away despite the implication that James felt afraid. He understood why so many fell for James and his ability to make anyone feel like they were placed in a pocket outside of time where nothing bad could reach them, and he was tempted to give in to his tiredness and just fall asleep, let James and Alec drive him to their safe house and just hide in there with them, in their own little world until Ernst either died or got bored, but he couldn’t. He had a duty; he was the Quartermaster and he had to protect all of his agents, his technicians, his MI6, his world.

“That’s my duty,” he whispered in James’ ear. 

“No, no, it isn’t,” Alec who was posing as the male nurse cut in, huffing. “Your duty is to keep MI6 as an entity safe, not the lowly drones that are sent out to do the dirty work.” He ignored the glare James sent him in favour of cupping Q’s face. “You’re thinking as a human, wishing to protect your friends and your lover, not like the robotic Quartermaster that MI6 financers expect you to be and while that makes you even more endearing to me, I do wish you’d meet their expectations.” 

That would never happen and by this point, Alec knew Q well enough to be aware of that, but it was understandable why he still tried. They drove in silence to the bridge where a switch took place and now James – who was supposed to be safe and sound in Ireland, but he also never did what was expected of him – Alec, and him were making their way to Q’s new secondary laboratory in an armoured Volkswagen beetle. 

The two agents kept their mouths shut to allow Q to dig through the terabytes of information they had managed to get out of Spectre, flipping through channels of news in search of anything that might be important as from the moment they left the ambulance, their connection to MI6 was severed. Two stories caught their attention, one about an private hospital near Vauxhall being on fire – the hospital were Q was supposed to be taken to – and another one about a high speed chase in Germany being on its third hour, the news anchor cracking jokes about how much fuel the Jaguar – which was the car that the fake 007 had been equipped with for this mission – was using.

“Everything’s going according to plan,” Q supplied, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “Well, almost everything,” he added and Alec and James were by his side in an instant, looking worriedly at him. “I have yet to pinpoint where Ernst is going exactly or find a way to track him.”

He had tried triangulating cell phone waves, but the man had so many disposable ones that it was impossible to do it an year, let along in the few hours Q wanted. A GPS track of all the vehicles the man owned was also impossible as, again, the man had too many and the ones that only he was using were hidden behind a wall of code that it would take Q a total of minimum eight hours to crack it without the right password.

It was beyond frustrating and Q felt as if his mind was close to imploding even though he was used to working under stress and with the metaphorical sword hanging about his head. He wanted to throw the computer against the wall, scream, and just walk in any random direction with the hope that he’d attract Ernst so he could outright strangle him and put an end to everything already. 

“You’ll find a way,” James whispered in his ear and placed his hands on his shoulders, slowly starting to rub them and ‘chase’ away the tension. “You always do,” he added softer still and pulled him to the large sofa in the middle of the room full of computers, Alec quickly moving to make space for him. “Allow yourself a bit of rest.

“We don’t have time for this,” Q fought back half-heartedly, feeling what little strength he had left leave him the second he touched the sofa. He really should order for this one to be replaced with a less comfortable one, but since this second laboratory was created in two days, using outside funds – which translates to money supplied by the double oh agents and the involved superiors, Q included – he was pretty sure it would be rude to create a fuss over what was practically a very expensive donation. 

If only the most complicated thing in his life right now was this bloody sofa. He would be bored, but at least James and Alec and everyone else would be safe and there were many ways to be entertained. One would be to go back on his Gate hunt, but the more obvious one lied with James. And that was him to lie with James – on James, to be more exact. Or lie under him, or lie with him on every bloody surface available and oh God did he need a cold shower and a reality check, because this was not what he should be thinking about. Or about Alec joining in and—

His own thoughts startled him awake and it took him a moment to register where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He jumped on his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he was momentarily blind and his heart was beating so strongly that he was afraid it would jump out of his chest.

“James? Alec?” He called out, carefully putting away their coats that had served as his blankets. “I swear that I will castrate you both if you decided to go after Ernst on your own,” he growled and started to check every room, forgetting how to breathe when he opened the bathroom door.

The two men were naked, their arms wrapped around each other as hot water washed over them. Alec’s back was an angry red and full of scratches, a sign that James had been anything but tender at first. They moved suddenly and Alec pushed James up against the wall, biting down on his shoulder and quickly covering the man’s mouth, hissing in his ear. “Don’t wake Q,” he ordered. “He needs his rest, poor darling,” he added in a softer voice and allowed James to move, the two looking at each other as Alec caressed his face.

“You’ve been away for so long that you forgot this place is soundproofed?” James asked and tugged Alec forward, running his tongue over his lower lip before they started to keeps deeply. 

Embarrassed, Q carefully closed the door and sat back down at his computer. He was happy for them. Happy that they grew a brain, and talked things over, surely remembering how much they apparently meant to each other – James never talked about Alec, but he always disappeared for an entire week and then came back, hurting and looking like crap and Q always assumed that he went to grieve someone.

He also felt a bit empty and that was what caused most of the embarrassment, not necessarily that he accidentally walked in on such an intimate moment. But now wasn’t the time to think of this and the men’s newfound feelings gave him that extra boost of energy he needed to fully focus on finding Ernst. 

Something was happening in Spectre because Q got a coded message that informed him that data was being moved manually to a private server that existed somewhere close to Marianas Web while at the same time, deleting everything they had on this one. They were also searching for something, probably for them, and Q’s technicians could see the implanting of a complex Trojan in the last firewall that they were supposed to take down so they’d have access to more information. Q had no choice but to tell them to get out and set their own worm to self-destruct, hoping to cripple Spectre a little by making them lose some data. 

He jumped when someone placed their hands on his shoulders, sighing when he smelled James’ aftershave. “I sometimes wish you weren’t a human cat, J—” His words froze on his lips when his chair was turned around and he came face to face with a grinning Ernst, hitting the keyboard with his elbow.

“Nice seeing you again, Quartermaster,” the man whispered and the woman who was carrying the tray of torture instruments earlier shoved a thin needle in his neck, injecting him with something that paralyzed him. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. At least not until my dear brother,” he leaned forward and forced Q’s eyes to widen, “is in the room.” He moved away from Q, letting him fall on the floor. “My, you sure do live up to your Resistance Guild.”

They just had to make the house soundproofed, Q thought as he struggled to call out to them and let them know that everyone was in danger. But even if the house had normal walls, he doubted his pathetic whimpers and whispered names would be heard. 

Ernst pulled him up by his hair, sneering at him. “Everyone is always more interested in him and in what he’s doing. And here was me, honestly trying to praise an Ingress enemy on their strategy. But no, the little rebel ignores the Enlightened in favour of something silly.” He threw Q on the sofa, the woman quickly arranging him in a sitting position. “But where is James anyway? I was sure he’d be using this opportunity to finally get a taste of you.”

He waved his hand and not ten seconds later, people were being thrown around the room, James and Alec emerging from the bathroom as naked as the day they were born, only missing the foam at their mouth to match the crazed look they had in their eyes, screaming for Q and not holding back from shooting their attackers in the knees if they so much as twitched. 

Ernst Quickly jumped on the sofa and threw an arm around Q, pushing his head against his shoulder and rubbing his back. “Oh, you poor thing! Abandoned for his first love.” He clicked his tongue and slowly turned to look at the motionless men, eyes narrowed and full of hatred. “Hello, James. Did you miss me? Because I sure missed you despite your antics and suffering keeping me company.” 

It was clear that the only thing keeping the agents in place was the fact that Ernst was pressing a knife to Q’s neck. And he wished that he could tell them to screw him and just take down the man because Spectre was crippled enough and R had been trained enough for her to take care of them. But he couldn’t even blink properly and Ernst always had to pry open his eyes every other time he blinked.

James slowly gave his gun to one of the men, Alec mirroring his actions. “I’ve crossed paths with so many psychopaths in my life that your face tells me nothing.” His bravado meant nothing because the fear was clear in his blue eyes. “How can I miss that which I forgot?”

Ernst rolled his eyes, tapping Q”s temple with the knife before getting up. “I am not going to get offended because you got hit on the head so many times that forgetting your brother—”

“You have a brother?” Alec interrupted and both he and James got wrestled to the ground when they tried to rush Ernst for kicking Q in the face.

“I hate it when people interrupt me,” Ernst sneered, signalling the woman to approach Q and wipe the thin trail of blood that was coming out of his nose. “I also hate blood on my Italian leather shoes, so please don’t interrupt me again.” He waited to see the two men nodding, resting his foot on one of his men while another cleaned his shoe. “My dear brother might remember me if I say Franz Oberhauser.”

Recognition flashed in James’ eyes but he kept quiet until he was signalled to speak – and Q could see how that killed him on the inside. “His family took me in after my parents died. We thought he died together with father in an avalanche.” Alec glanced at him, looking apologetic, but James did not even spare him a glance. This wasn’t the time for that kind of conversation, Q thought the message to be. “How sad that your father truly died and you lived to die another day.” 

Q mentally braced himself for another hit but it never came. Instead Ernst opted to drag his clammy hand down his face, chuckling. “James there somehow managed to be father’s favourite. I am sure it was because he looked down all the time, so I decided to ensure that he will forever be everyone’s favourite by making him miserable.” His smile suddenly dropped and his nails dug in his cheeks as he cupped his face. “I had a hard time getting rid of that Russian dog and that British bitch.” A growl from James, but nothing more because Alec was squeezing his hand. “And then you bookworm had to show up and make things harder still.”

“You—” James started but bit his tongue the second the saw him raise his hand at Q.

Grinning, Ernst gently patted Q’s face. “So an old dog can be taught new tricks as long as his special bitch is threatened, interesting. I wonder if I can teach him how to cry? What do you think, Q? Would he cry and beg if I were to start slowly cutting your fingers? Would he care enough—?”

“I’ll do anything you want, but stop existing near Q,” James shouted, pushing off the guards that struggled to keep him still.

Q saw the kick coming a mile away and this time, Ernst angled in such a way that he broke his glasses, pieces of it cutting his face – but it didn’t hurt him; he just felt foreign things pierce his skin and the blood trickling out. “You know how much I hate being interrupted more than anyone else, James, so shut up!” 

He readied to strike Q again, but the woman was faster and she shoved another syringe in her boss’ neck, moving the paralyzed man in front of her and using him as a shield. “Put your weapons down, or he gets it, as cliché as it sound,” she ordered and the men looked at Ernst, awaiting his orders. “He can’t move or talk so try to use your own brains for once and make the right decision. Move against me and risk everything for a man who will kill you as soon as he gets his feeling back in his fingers because you permitted me to do this, or lower your weapons and know for sure that you will live.”

Q had a hard time believing the latter, not helped by the death glares Alec and James were sending the men and by the way the confused henchmen glanced at each other and their captives, it seemed that they had the same trouble. Still, after a few more agonizing seconds, they all threw their guns on the ground and kneeled before the naked agents, putting their hands behind their heads, waiting further orders. 

The agents didn’t lose any time in jumping up and using computer cables to tie up their captors, Alec taking on of their phones so he could call MI6 and let them know what happened while James rushed to Q to hover uselessly around him, not knowing what to do to alleviate the pain he assumed he felt and stop his bleeding.

“He can’t feel anything,” the woman offered and almost got punched for her trouble.

Alec was the one who grabbed James’ arm and forced it down, struggling to hold the man back. “Why did you help us? Why did you defect? What’s your game?” He demanded as if he was reading Q’s mind. 

The woman frowned, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from him. “Rats leave a sinking ship and Spectre is sinking. Even as we speak, his numbers are plotting against him and against each other, silently fighting for the high seat and no matter the outcome, my future would be non-existent. But MI6 is sure to be more than kind to the person who offered their biggest enemy so far on a silver platter.” 

They didn’t get to interrogate her more than that because the safe house was suddenly filled with MI6 field agents and medical teams, a lone doctor flanked by six guards dealing with Ernst while the other three doctors and five nurses were all rushing around Q, checking his pulse and taking samples of his blood, some carefully removing the larger pieces of glass from his face with tweezers. 

“Stop crowding the doctors,” M barked, for the first time physically tugging James away like a mother would an unruly child who simply refused to move away from a window behind which expensive toys lied. “Bond, they’ll do their jobs better without you snapping at them or do you want them to start shaking and accidentally render the Quartermaster blind?”

“I’ll render them—”

“Bond; go get dressed,” she ordered coldly and the man swallowed his words, opting to just glare. That agent subdued, M focused on Alec who seemed to have a hard time of letting go of what Q assumed to be his leg because he felt a bit of pressure there. 

Alec felt her glare, but that had to be the woman’s superpower because she could command without using words. People always rushed to do something without being told, dancing around like perfectly coordinated ants around their queen; it was just 007 – and the former 006, Q now realized – that could resist her and forced her to state what she considered to be the obvious. 

“I am not your agent anymore, M,” Alec breathed out, staying put even as a gurney was brought in for Q – they were probably going to drag Ernst to a car as that was the only way M could punish him. “You can’t order me to get dressed.”

“True, but I can have you arrested and made to walk to the car like that,” she pointed out and Q felt the pressure around his ankle disappear. “Go get dressed; you can stay in the ambulance with the Quartermaster and 007.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this really is the last chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me and enjoy~

The rustle of sheets woke James up. There was still a warm body pressed up against him and his nose was still tickled by the messy silky brown hair he loved to kiss, but he could no longer feel Alec’s lower half under his leg so it was clear who was suffering of insomnia and that helped his heart slow down.

 

After the whole Ernst/Franz incident, Q had suffered of insomnia. He was afraid on a subconscious level that he wouldn’t be able to snap out of that sleep paralysis when he was done sleeping – although since he admitted that to him and Alec when they found him swaying on his feet amongst unfinished blueprints, shouldn’t it be considered on a conscious one?

 

“You’re dead on your feet,” Alec pointed out softly, sneaking his arm around Q’s middle to help him stay up. “What if we sleep with you?” He grinned and winked, but Q blinked slowly and was openly struggling to see why Alec looked like the cat who caught the canary.

 

“Sexual innuendo,” James finally offered, deciding that even five seconds of the zombie Quartermaster was more than enough for a lifetime and dragged him out of the lab. “But we’ll continue this after you are rested.”

 

Q put up a weak struggle, saying that he had changed his mind and that he wasn’t afraid or asleep – Alec corrected him, but Q completely missed it – and ended up in Medical, trying to resist the sleeping pills. Seeing how miserable he looked as he finally succumbed to what he was given, James almost broke the arm of the doctor who honestly tried to force the pills down Q’s throat the following night.

 

They walked until Q’s legs started to hurt and then Alec carried him in his back until their phones ran out of battery, point where they stopped in a park and sat on a bench. “Are you sleepy now?” Alec asked carefully, Q resting his head on his shoulder and James covering him with his jacket.

 

Q shook his head and snuggled closer to Alec, his shaking subdued a little when James started to rub his back and arms. “It’s just my feet,” he mumbled through his lie, yawning and rubbing his eyes, unaware that James had taken his glasses away. “We’ll start walking again as soon as…” He trailed off, fully asleep now.

 

Since Q’s apartment was closer, they took him there and after tucking him in his bed and leaving his bedroom door wide open, they passed out on his sofa. Of course, Q woke up gasping and clawing at his chest, jumping out of his bed and running around the room like a headless chicken, ignoring the scared agents who had already called Medical over until he was sure that yes, he wasn’t paralyzed and that he was still safe.

 

This painful ritual lasted for a week, until a grouchy Q – who had taken over most of central London Ingress wise – decided that it was enough and marched himself home, drank two litters of camomile tea, started reading the most boring book he could find, and trying to will his fear away. It took him another month until he was able to return to his normal schedule pattern and he noted to James and Alec – who was not quite a double oh agent, but not a civilian either – that the only side-effect right then was waking up with a slightly elevated heartbeat.

 

“What if you woke up with someone?” James asked outright and Q gave him a confused look. “I mean, why don’t Alec and I crash with you for a bit and see if that can be fixed without involving Medical for an EKG?”

 

Q left without answering and started building an wall between the three of them over the following month, never talking with them more than he had to and always being civil – the cold kind of civil, not the ‘I am an awkward person who is struggling not to say something stupid because I like/ _like_ you’ kind.

 

So of course that the agents couldn’t stomach that for more than three days before cornering Q in his own branch and sitting him down to talk about why he was acting the way he was and if there was anything bad that they have done to make him wish to distance himself.

 

“If you tell us to go away and leave you alone, we will,” James added and for a moment, it looked like Q was going to do just that.

 

But Q instead sighed and slouched in that way he did whenever he was about to be honest about something. “I am happy that you and Alec are back together, but I am confused and not at all inclined to be a notch on your bed.”

 

“A couple formed of two people is something conventional,” James said slowly, cupping Q’s face and gently tilting it back. “I won’t ask you about Alec because you are still getting to know him, but do I strike you as someone who would go for something as boring as that? If you’re interested in _both_ of us,” which, to James at least, it was pretty obvious that he was, “and willing to give this a chance, why not go for it?”

 

They didn’t get to share a bed for anything until much later but after that, they moved in together almost instantly and while Alec or James sometimes woke up from night terrors, checking the life signs of their lovers or calling in MI6 to check and make sure that the one of them that was on a mission was okay, Q’s sleeping pattern alongside heartbeat returned to normal.  

 

“I don’t have balls,” Alec whispered when he saw the curious and tired look James was giving him.

 

Alec suddenly flinched and before James could pull out one of the many guns that they had hidden under the pillows, Q spoke up. “They’re still there,” he grumbled, squeezing one more time before pulling his hand back. “Come back to bed and we’ll take a better look.”

 

His voice was sultry and James was sure that the look in his eyes mirrored that, but the lazy way that Q kicked off the covers proved that he was like that because he was half-asleep and not because he was horny. So Alec just leaned over and gave him a chase kiss, squeezing James’ shoulder as the covers found their way back around the already sleeping Q.

 

They were an odd ‘couple’ by default, made somehow stranger still by their normal sleeping patterns. While James and Alec being able to function with little sleep no matter what, Q was able to do that only when he knew they were in danger and otherwise unable to be anything more than an adorable zombie until he was done drinking his first cup of tea.

 

He was also light on his feet and able to fall asleep literally anywhere, even on the toilet as proven in one night when he had managed to crawl out of their bed to use the bathroom. The second the temperature between them dropped, Alec and James woke up and started to turn their apartment upside down in search for the man, finally calling MI6 and pleading with the head boffin for that night to check the tracker Q had in him and tell them where he is.

 

“ _In your apartment_ ,” the man answered awkwardly after a few tense seconds of silence, coughing. “ _In the bathroom, to be more exact._ ” Alec kicked the door – useless as it was closed, not locked – which did wake Q enough to have him scream and start throwing everything he could get his hands on – toilet paper, toilet brush, soaps, and tooth paste. “ _Is everything okay, sir_?” The boffin asked, with a bit of worry in his voice now and James was quick to assure him that everything was okay before ending the call.

 

“Are you seriously going out at this time of the night to play a game?” James whispered, moving his head back a little to give Q more room to nuzzle his neck.

 

He was momentarily blinded when Alec turned both his and Q’s phone in James’ direction and he swore to never ever do that to Q again. “If Q was rested enough, he’d join me.”

 

“No I wouldn’t,” Q muttered, awake again. “This hour should be illegal and I quite like the way you two feel—”

 

“There’s an Aerodactyl nearby and someone is attacking your perfect triangle of supreme power,” Alec interrupted and before James could even breathe, Q was on his feet, looking around for underwear and pants.

**Author's Note:**

> The story is mostly done.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are love!


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